Lost
by BleedingCrimson
Summary: What odd happenstance, two women drive a jeep into the Golden Woods on their way to a camping trip. Of all the gin joints in the world, it just had to be this one... Rated T for cussing & some angst that snuck its way in there. HIATUS, sorry.
1. Chapter I

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Lord of the Rings; this is just product of our Imagination that we have decided to share with whoever wants to read this. Feel free to flame but if you do please flame appropriately, no bad grammar and actually have a problem with it (who knows, it might be fixed- especially if you find a typo or any bad grammar, we hate those just as much as you do), don't flame just to flame…save yourself the time and embarrassment please. Thank you. - Bleeding Crimson Editor

_Chapter 1: In Which We Meet The Characters, Or Otherwise Known As The Prologue_

"Lets go camping," she says.

I give her a deadpan look, "Really? Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah! It'll be fun! We'll drive near the coast and get a cabin (should probably reserve that now though). Don't worry, it won't really be camping. More like one of those semi-roughing it places where there's a community of cabins that you can rent for like a week. Let's do that!" She was getting more and more excited as she went on.

"I suppose, though I can't leave for too long. Most of my patients only let me see them and if I miss our sessions, like I promised not to, they might clam up and I'll have to _start all over again_!" And I really don't want it to come to that…

"Fine, we'll be gone for three days, is that good? The weekend and either all of Friday or all of Monday. Which one?"

"Monday, I hate Mondays. I swear all my bad luck accumulates during the week and is let loose on Mondays. I'd prefer not to be at school then… Plus there's a test that I have on Friday."

"Of course."

"Wow… you packed everything, but the kitchen sink. Even for you, this is kind of over the top, don'cha think?" It was early in the morning, early enough that I hadn't had my mandatory two cups of coffee and so I was groggy and my words were slurring only slightly.

"Yep!" So proud.

"Where's the coffee and the coffee maker?" I needed coffee to function, I really did. Plus the migraines when I don't get it… not pleasant.

"Uhh…" She deflated a tiny bit before mumbling, "I _knew_ I forgot something!" Then she raced past me, into the house, and came back a couple minutes later with the coffee machine carefully packed, four mugs, a handful of random teas (which probably weren't as random as it seemed), and a good amount of hot chocolate mixes.

"You get the cooler and bag of foodstuff packed either?" I drawled in my lazy way, as usual. Most likely the reason my words sounded so slurred in the morning before coffee, my mouth couldn't get my normal drawl exactly right so it got muddled up… Oh well.

"No, but you get to help me with that!" She headed back to the house and saw I wasn't coming yet, "Hurry it up Cripple!"

"Shut it Bitch! It takes a while for me to get _anywhere_ with these damn crutches!" We are best friends, we really are, I promise. And because I had recently screwed up my knee bad enough to need crutches (dislocated kneecap) she calls me Cripple and/or Gimpy. Lovely huh? But it's ok, because I normally call her Bitch or I just don't address her by a name in general, pronouns help a lot with that. The current name is a little better than being called Sammich or Smalls, so…

I crutch my way into Sarah's house and stand in awe at how clean it is, it's _never _this clean. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

She gives a sarcastic little laugh, "Funny, Sam. My mom came yesterday 'for just a visit to my sweet, dear child'. Hmph, 'sweet, dear child' my arse!" By this point she had a gloomy air about her so, as her best friend, it is my duty to cheer her up.

"Yeah, your mom _has_ always been a neat freak… One that doesn't particularly like me, you still remember that summer when she wouldn't let you see me at all 'til school started up again? That sucked."

"Yeah. But you're still not getting out of packing food for playing the sympathetic/pathetic friend/Cripple." She lightly smirked.

"Damn it!" She glared at me.

"Darn it?" We both smile and almost-yell at the same time, "Bummer!"

"Good times, good times." She says after our laughter at the age-old joke is brought up, once again, from high school.

"Lets get cracking!" I sigh.

"If we must." Even though I despise packing of any kind, she manages to make me do it. In fact, she manages to make me do it and _have fun _while doing it… The little bugger!

~*~*5 hours later*~*~

"Done!" I cried at the same time Sarah tripped over my crutch _innocently_ lying there and face-dived into a conveniently placed couch… Ah, such is life, or as the French would say C'est la vie!

"And I thought _I_ was supposed to be the clumsy one, being the Cripple and all." Cue trademark sly smirk from your's truly.

"Shut it Sammich!"

"Damn it."

"You know, for a psychologist you sure cuss a lot." I sigh at this.

"Yes I know, and _you_ know that I've been trying to break the habit since 8th grade. So far I don't cuss at work, and I guess that's all that really matters, ne baka-kouhai?"

"No! We are _not_ starting this again! I refuse to listen to you speak to me in languages I don't understand!"

"Fine, ruin all my fun… Hoi! Can I insult random passer-bys in Japanese?"

"Go for it, but you've got to translate for me when I ask, ok?"

"Sweet!"

"And people think she's the mature one…" My bestest friend in the whole wide world muttered under her breath, just loud enough that I could hear.

"I love you too!"

"Let's go, we're done. And I'm driving!"

"Fine, its not like I would want to anyway. You're the one that has to stay up now, I get to sleep a bit." C'est la vie… I smile at my train of thoughts. Yes, such is life.

"Damn it!"

"Ha ha sucker!"

"Whatever, just get your crippled ass in the car."

"Bloody yank!" I mutter under my breath as she follows behind, carrying the rest of the bags to her bright, apple red Jeep Cherokee that one of our friends had named Scarlet… Good times, good times.

**Hey, just drop me a line via review and tell me your opinions on this. I'm testing the waters on this one so if no one wants to read this or if no one likes it I don't think I will bother to write it anymore. I might perhaps continue for myself but I doubt it. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter II

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Lord of the Rings; this is just product of our Imagination that we have decided to share with whoever wants to read this. Feel free to flame but if you do please flame appropriately, no bad grammar and actually have a problem with it (who knows, it might be fixed- especially if you find a typo or any bad grammar, we hate those just as much as you do), don't flame just to flame…save yourself the time and embarrassment please. Thank you. - Bleeding Crimson Editor

**Thank you** to all of my reviewers, you made me want to continue, as I wasn't sure if this would be interesting to anyone else or not. I will update as much as possible and the second I complete a chapter, hopefully soon, though I can't make any promises. Sorry and Thank you! Oh, and I realize that Westron and Elvish are not English and realistically, they wouldn't understand each other, however, I am using my artistic license to its fullest.

_Chapter 2: Where Tempers Will Run High  
_  
"Sarah, are you sure you know where we're going? You haven't looked at the map or asked directions for quite a long while." I was mildly concerned about this, usually she was really good about knowing where we were headed, but this time I just had a bad feeling about this.

"Of course I know, Sam. What do you think I am, inept?" Sarah looked a bit insulted, though I knew she didn't really mean it. But just to play along…

"I must say nothing. I must say nothing. I must say nothing. I must say nothing." I chanted to myself, loudly enough for her to hear me. A grin on my face at our stupidity. She looked over to me and grinned.

"Seems like you're loosening up already! I knew this was a good idea!"

I snorted, "Of course it was, you invited my lovely self after all."

"You look kind of like the cat who got the canary with that grin." Sarah deadpanned. She likes deadpanning. So do I, now that I think about it…

"Either way, we are lost. Just admit it. I know you think you know where you are going but we've been driving through the woods for a while, one that I might mention is nowhere on the map, and the path has steadily been getting smaller."

Perhaps I was worrying too much, but none of this sat quite right with me at this point. "Sarah, I'm bloody well starting to think that we shouldn't have taken this trip."

Suddenly, the car broke down. "Damn it!" Sarah hissed to herself, slamming her fist onto the wheel, the horn blared unexpectedly and we both jumped.

"Great, see if we were on a road, with service we could call a tow truck. But no, you wanted to take the 'scenic route'! Where neither of us have access to reception!" I was angry, to say the least. All I have to say, is that Sarah is more than lucky that I'm the type of person who acts calmly and is level-headed in a crisis…

"Sam, don't say it…" Sarah replied, in an almost defeated way.

"Say what." I know there was a smirk on my face, and that Sarah hated when I used my sickly sweet voice ("it really is so overly sweet," she once said).

"You know what I mean!"

"Of course I don't if I am not told." Cue completely fake bewildered look…

"I know you know it. So don't say it." She narrowed her eyes into a glare at my person, and I do believe that a growl could be heard from her. Well, if that's how she wants to play. A smug smirk makes it's way onto my face, I could feel the satisfaction at her frustration at myself.

"Oh, did you mean not to say, I told you so, perhaps?" I love pissing people off, it works too, people tend to tell you more when they're so angry they can't entirely think straight. Though sometimes, it can become dangerous… such a time would be now.

Sarah growled once more, I growled back of course - both of us sounding like some kind of savage animal,

Suddenly out of the trees an arrow, an honest-to-God arrow, flew at the both of us. The only reason it hadn't hit me was because Sarah had nudged my arm to the side. Wait, never mind, I got a cut when it just barely "missed" me…must be sharp. The both of us shivered at the thought of actually being hit by one of those before we were both on our guard.

Not as if we could really do anything, those lunatics obviously have bow and arrows and thus a long-to-mid-range weapon (occasionally short-range too). All I have are my crutches, a bum leg, and really good survival instincts (skills actually). Sarah, however, was better off than myself as she was smart enough, being a military woman and all, to have brought her daggers, which she can throw or use in a knife-fight, along with all the hand-to-hand combat training she's had.

Either way though, we were outmatched… bollocks.

The atmosphere was tense as the two of us waited for our assailants, hopefully there weren't too many. No rustling of leaves, no crackle of stepped on leaves, not even the sound of breathing. The forest was just as still, no wind, no birds, no nothing. We sat there, becoming more and more paranoid, until it happened.

Abruptly a hand covered my mouth and nose, I can't breathe! I couldn't yell out to Sarah, whose back was to me but I could at least make the noise that the stranger didn't. I fought against my captor with all the strength I had, without further injuring my knee hopefully,

Sarah got it, she turned and then froze in her spot, Bloody bint! She's been distracted, by our captors! I heard a voice from behind me, or at least I think it was a voice- the language was nothing like I ever heard. It seemed to flowing to be a language, and to musical to be spoken with a voice.

I saw a swish of long, golden hair. From my captor, I supposed. Sarah still stood in awe of the man threatening us. Odd, because Neither of us particularly likes blondes, nor did Sarah like long hair on guys for that matter- the long hair tended to be my thing.

Sarah gathered her bearings at my glare, she's not supposed to fall for the villain! Though we both tend to have a weakness for them. She glared back for all of a moment and then started to pantomime to the captor that we couldn't speak their language.

A short pause and the man spoke, a rougher language this time- sounding somewhat like German in the sound, closer than before anyway. Neither of us understood- we had quite the collection of languages under our collective belt, so it was quite surprising.

Sarah motioned-asking the man to release me and that perhaps I knew the language, how she was able to communicate this I will never know. Luckily his grip had loosened soon after I stopped struggling- enough that I could breathe at least.

Suddenly there were horrible beings upon us, disgusting perversions of life. I heard something yelled, yrch, I think it might have been.

I turned to run (read: hobble) over to Sarah when my worst nightmare came true. The moment was drawn out, as if to mock me. Time crawled at a snail's pace and each instant seemed to be a lifetime.

Sarah had stood there, she looked to me as if she was going to protect me. God knows she would have been far better off. Just in time to ruin my split-second of peacefulness, knowing that the two of us would always have the other's back, her determination warped into pure, immeasurable, terror.

Shouts could be heard, but I couldn't comprehend it. I knew in the back of my mind that people, if I could call them that, were dying, but the only thing I was conscious of was the arrow. The black-fletched arrow. The black-fletched arrow that was imbedded deep in her ribs. There was no possible way she would live, Yet that stubborn arse decides to try to hold on through the intense agony of dieing. Bitch…

I couldn't comprehend anything anymore, all I know is that I dropped to my knees - ignoring the pain in my knee, it didn't matter, she was dead. My best friend, my sister, my hatred and my compatriot and comrade. Gone, but not quite. Sarah was still trying to hold on, trying to live even though there was no way.

Not with where the arrow had pierced her. Between the second and third rib, deep in her left lung. She was most likely drowning in the blood pouring into her lung. That or the lung deflated and she was suffocating, lacking sufficient oxygen intake. Either way, she was dieing, slowly, horrifically, painfully.

I don't know how long I stayed like this, on my knees, in pain, watching my friend die in front of my eyes with nothing I can do. Why, God? Why would you allow such a thing? Why!

I couldn't think, unholy rage filling me. I was seeing red, no crimson. I saw a dagger, more like a short sword than a dagger really. I reached out and clutched it to me, the only lifeline I had. These monsters, who had the dark arrows, would die.

If I had taken a step back and was calm like normal, if I could analyze this like I did in my psychology class, I would call this the cause of future post-traumatic stress disorder, likely to reveal itself in avoidance, according to the character of the afflicted.

But I couldn't, all I knew, all I could think, all I could breathe, was the fact that I needed revenge. A new concept to me, I never knew I had emotions that ran this deep, that were this fierce. It was kind of scary actually, to have the ability to harbour such intense rage and anger.

I picked myself up off the ground and stood quickly, though faltered slightly due to the unsteadiness of my knee. The pain only added to my wrath. Every being, friend or foe, I cut down. I saw all who approached me as the one who had nocked the arrow, as the one who had fired at Sarah.

I know not how long I continued like this. I fell a couple of times, only to retaliate quickly and rise again. I also don't know how I killed anyone, never done it before. I suppose anger brings out the worst in people.

How it ended, I don't know. I was unaware of which side won, our original captors or the ugly 'yrch' that had invaded the woods. I suppose I blacked out or passed out from exertion or some such thing, for after this I don't remember anything, simply a black abyss of rest that I welcomed whole-heartedly, until I woke up.

* * *

  
Kind of long, I think. Please review, I love reviews! I enjoy hearing what other people have to say, nice reviews, constructive criticism (Grammar Nazis welcome), and even flames (thought out and literate, please) are welcome!


	3. Chapter III

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Lord of the Rings; this is just product of our Imagination that we have decided to share with whoever wants to read this. Feel free to flame but if you do please flame appropriately, no bad grammar and actually have a problem with it (who knows, it might be fixed- especially if you find a typo or any bad grammar, we hate those just as much as you do), don't flame just to flame…save yourself the time and embarrassment please. Thank you. - Bleeding Crimson Editor

**Thank you **to all of my reviewers, again, you have encouraged me to write more. I hope that this is satisfactory to all you. And once again, reviews of all kinds are welcomed and encouraged. I am sorry I do not post regularily and I have no excuse, I shall try to do better, I beg forgiveness of thee. Lastly, I have done the translations myself and so they are but fumbling attempts at Elvish (Sindarin, I believe it is though I cannot be sure).

_Chapter 3: Morning Afters Are Full Of Unwanted Realization_

"Rarg." I was lying down on something soft, most likely my bed- but seeing as my hangover was so bad that the light shining on the outside my eyelids hurt, I could be anywhere really.

_Man, I wish I could remember that party. Must have been a blast._ I stayed like that for a while, not moving an inch because it hurt too much. Not only was my head hurting, the rest of me was too. _Damn, I really wish I could remember that party._ I groaned again, just for good measure, and decided to brave it. I've learned that with hangovers this bad that all you need is to employ an old Russian remedy. Drink more vodka. It actually works surprisingly well. _Now, if only I could remember where I stashed my vodka… Oh right, in my bed's right side table. All that's left is to actually get it now. Oh boy._

I groped around for the aforementioned table but couldn't reach it. This revelation shocked me into opening my eyes. _Ow! Damnit, why is the sun so fucking bright?_ My head pounded and my eyes felt like they were on fire so I brought up my hands to cover my eyes and forehead as best I could. My hands were cold normally so it felt like paradise.

Unfortunately my peace was interrupted by a (loud) knock on my bedroom door. _Wait, I live alone. Unless someone came home with me and decided to crash here for the night, they wouldn't knock though…_ The thought came unbidden into my mind, what if I wasn't at home?

Gradually memories of earlier came back to me. _O holy crud-muffins! How in the bloody hell have we been catapulted into this hellish place?_ The thought struck me, Sarah's dead.

I'm not proud of this, but I had a melt down and cried, curled up, still laying in the bed. Not only did I cry, but I sobbed for all I was worth, with silent yet painful, body-wracking sobs. I was lost, Sarah was my best friend and I hers. She was my guide when I was astray and I hers. We were so alike that it was only by chance and intrigue that we did not hate each other when we met.

I do not know how long I cried, it must have been about an hour though no more. The person who had knocked on my door must have heard me and left me to myself. For that I can only be grateful that no one saw me in such a state. Soon enough my tears stopped and I would cry no more, my eyes dried_. I won't cry for her, she would have wanted me to live on. Commit acts of mischief for her. She'd probably smack me for crying in the first place anyway_, I thought somewhat bitterly. It was just like her to make sure she had the last word.

I dried my face with my sleeve when I heard a knock at the door once more, the fact that I wasn't at my house only now comprehended due to the revelation of Sarah's death.

"Yes?" I croaked, my throat sore from my near-silent weeping.

Once more I was met with a language I did not understand, "Sir?" for the voice sounded masculine, "Come in, I suppose, the door's unlocked."

An odd noise sounded on the other side of the thick-looking wooden door, I guess that it was the handle, it had a odd quality to it though- I suppose it could be called organic in a way. The door opened to reveal a tall blonde man with peculiarly long hair. The blonde reminds me of something, and I cant help this nagging feeling that I should be afraid of him, or at least wary, for some reason.

The man stood there, arrogant and completely self-assured, I could just tell. He started talking in that same odd language that I've heard multiple times since coming here, wherever _here_ is.

"'Quel andune. Khila amin." At this point he turned gracefully A, lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?"_ What? I didn't understand a word of that!_ The man must have understood the blank look I was sure to be giving him for he turned and stuck his head out the doorway calling, "Haldir!" Perhaps it meant assistance, or perchance a translator.

At once, another man came in- there was a definite resemblance between the two. Equally long platinum blonde hair, and equally as tall. Though, the newcomer did have a more prominent nose… like Sherlock Holmes!

"Toror'amin, lle nyarlye lammen he?" The first man motioned between him and I, I think I am right in supposing that "haldir" means a translator of sorts. The other man nodded curtly and the first started speaking rapidly, absently I likened the noise to a bird's excited chirruping in the back of my mind though the forefront was used exclusively for processing my confusion. Perhaps this confusion and shock is why I was so calm, it was mayhap the fact that not much could be worse than Sarah dieing at this point in time, or perchance even that I had already met my mental and emotional breakdown quota for the decade.

I tried to understand, I really did, but there wasn't a snowball's chance in the deepest pit of Hell that it would happen. By this time I had gathered that this wasn't a language spoken on Earth, so it must be some secret, underground society's unheard of language they made up themselves. Perchance the influence was Latin, it flowed well enough to be a romantic language, though I didn't recognize the sounds of any of the words spoken as word-bases that the language could have derived from Latin, or French, or Italian, or even English… _Condemnation and Fiery Brimstone._

The second comer spoke in a language unlike the other, it was harsher sounding like it had Germanic roots, it was rougher than the first language. I felt like I should know it, like I was expected to speak and understand this second language, but it wasn't to be. No god came down and bestowed to me the gift of knowledge of these words, no sudden memory of learning these meanings and phrases…

"Sir, I can't understand a word you're saying. I'm sorry. I want to know, I do!"

The two blonde men exchanged puzzled looks and the second one said something to the first, "Quen en uumhe Westron?" _They must not recognize my language either. Crap…_

The two conversed quickly and with serious-sounding tones, gradually stopping before they turned back to me. The first man, who woke me up gestured to himself saying, "Rumil." I did not understand before he repeated this a few times, right palm upon his heart, then gesturing to me and gave a question-like noise.

"Oh! Right, my name is Samantha." I laid my hand on my heart like he did repeating, "Samantha."

The man looked somewhat excited and pointed at himself, repeating "Rumil," once more and asking, "Samantha?" I nodded and he gestured to the other I had just forgotten about in the miscommunication and frustrating game of charades betwixt Rumil and I.

"Haldir," he said, gesturing jubilantly at the second man. _I suppose that is his name. And Rumil called for him, not a translator… Well, that is only somewhat awkward now that I know that._

I waved, deciding to be courteous, and he only raised his eyebrow. Perhaps that is not the custom here. I am most assuredly in for some heavy immersion learning, aren't I?

* * *

_*Translations*_  
'Quel andune - Good evening  
Khila amin - Follow me  
A, lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie? - Ah, do you speak elvish?  
"Toror'amin, lle nyarlye lammen he?" - Brother, will you please translate for us? (Lit. My brother, will you tell her our language?)  
Quen en uumhe Westron? - Does she not speak Common?

_Translation help is from grey-company(dot)org(slash)Language_

**Thank you for your support guys! And once again, I love reviews, so don't be hesitant to write one. Any support or **_**constructive**_** criticism is greatly appreciated.**


	4. Chapter IV

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Lord of the Rings; this is just product of our Imagination that we have decided to share with whoever wants to read this. Feel free to flame but if you do please flame appropriately, no bad grammar and actually have a problem with it (who knows, it might be fixed- especially if you find a typo or any bad grammar, we hate those just as much as you do), don't flame just to flame…save yourself the time and embarrassment please. Thank you. - Bleeding Crimson Editor

**Thank you** for reviewing! I lost inspiration for this story for a while, as you could probably tell, but I have decided to make both Sarah and Sam college students instead of thirty-somethings who have already established their careers (mostly because I dod not have enough knowledge of psychiatry and the practice of it to be able to write a character who is a psychiatrist.) I am sorry for this abrupt change, but I have gone back and fixed the previous chapters to fit this. Nothing major though. I have also been unable to go back to the greycompany site (plus the fact that I have recently learned that it isn't Sindarin or Tolkien Elvish and had been, in fact, made up for someone's RP site) that I got my translation help from so I will be switching point of views instead. I will not mark each switch with whichever character's thoughts we enter because it annoys me. Sorry, and thank you again!

**Review Replies**  
_Wing Commander Arnica Vinyaya:_ Nice name and, Shweet! Sounds like my friends.  
_Razzika:_ Thank you a lot! And yeah, me neither. I just hope I don't write myself into a corner like I tend to do, that would be a bummer for sure.  
_Lady Nieriel Anarion:_ For sure.  
_Jayn:_ Wow, such an honour. I sure know how that goes, horrible things papers are.  
_CreativeSprite:_ Thank you, because Westron/Common/Rohirric/Etc is not English (as it is Latin-based and also has a different alphabet- gunna have fun with that for sure!) and so I decided to do this. Though I have seen this done a couple other times. If you look in my favourites I believe that most of the 'Fall into ME' fics under LotR are ones that aren't instantly understood. However, I completely get why you would write it that way, when your character isn't understood it's hard to write (especially as I really enjoy dialogue). Though it does create a viable reason for intrigue in the character other than the somewhat obvious foreignness of a person from another world (especially if hey happen to be Asian, though Samantha and Sarah are not). I have big plans for some culture shock for the elves and Samantha...

_Chapter 4: Afraid of Perfection_

_"Oh! Right, my name is Samantha." I laid my hand on my heart like he did repeating, "Samantha."_

_The man looked somewhat excited and pointed at himself, repeating "Rumíl ," once more and asking, "Samantha?" I nodded and he gestured to the other I had just forgotten about in the miscommunication and frustrating game of charades betwixt Rumíl and I._

_"Haldir," he said, gesturing jubilantly at the second man. I suppose that is his name. And Rumíl called for him, not a translator… Well, that is only somewhat awkward now that I know that._

_I waved, deciding to be courteous, and he only raised his eyebrow. Perhaps that is not the custom here. I am most assuredly in for some heavy immersion learning, aren't I?

* * *

_

The woman that our beloved Marchwarden's troop had found was quite odd. Her appearance was odd (as she was shorter than any I have seen in my years), her clothes outlandish to the point of scandalous (she wore not a dress but a short tunic that was tight and bared her arms and leggings that looked to be made of an other-worldly material), her supports (so she could move about with her injured knee) were something I have never seen before, and her language was harsh and reminded me of a serpent.*

The woman could not have been taller than my chest, I have not been in contact with many Men in my years of life but even for them she would be small, I think. Her hair was what really astounded me, though, it was short. Even the males among Men did not wear their hair that length! And so oddly shaped too, it was short enough to see her neck in the back but long enough in the front to reach past her shoulders, it was parted to the side and some of it covered her left eye… what a foolish thing to do, cover an eye so that one cannot see out of it.

The words she spoke sent minute chills down my spine, they were oddly pleasant to the ears in an eerie and serpent-like sort of way. Her supports were metal, yet light enough to carry without much effort for even a female Man. Hollow I supposed, but this feat seems above the abilities of even the finest Dwarf or Elvin crafters.

Her clothes were of odd material that I have not seen and woven in such a way that it might even be superior to eleven make! Her clothes also tended to be tight and showed a bit more than appropriate outside of the bedroom… I could feel the very tips of my ears and the back of my neck heat up a bit as I thought this before dearest brother mine interrupted my thoughts.

"Rumíl! Cease this foolishness, we must bring her to the Lord and Lady. They wish to speak with this foreigner, perhaps the Lady will be able to communicate better than we were able to." Haldir said sternly. I sighed, of course.

"Yes, brother. Let us go." I reached out a hand towards the woman, Samantha, in the most non-threatening manner I could conjure and grasped her wrist. I lightly tugged her towards the door, though slowly enough that she could use me as a support, ignoring her inquisitive look.

* * *

Haldir said something to Rumíl and he nodded and approached slowly, as if he had come across a strange new animal. I suppose this is what I was to them. From what I could see, they dressed like they from a Ren Faire and all the people, men included, who I had seen were utterly beautiful and angelic, ethereal and otherworldly I might even go so far as to say. Had they taken all the good-looking people and moved here, isolated from the rest of us? If so, why?

I was led out of the door and I was completely astounded. I saw trees of unimaginable height and width. The bark was silver and the leaves gold! Interweaving rope and wood bridges were laced throughout the tree branches. It was only just turning to dusk, the sun setting between the branches at it's leisure. Lazily the changing light filtered through the golden leaves creating a warm glow on the passing inhabitants who moved with such a grace that it seemed unearthly.

If I had not been before, I was frightened to the core now. These people, if that's what they truly were, were not what I was use to. They were too beautiful, their movements too adroit, their language too musical, they were altogether too... perfect. It was scary. These beings, they could do whatever they wanted, they could get away with anything—because of their looks if nothing else.

Fortunately, I was so absorbed in my new surroundings to deeply think on my fear, for the moment. I was led across a short bridge to an intermediate platform of a tree that seemed to be one of the largest in width. Haldir, Rumíl, and I ascended up the tree climbing the stairs to yet another platform, this one however, led into the tree itself like the room I had been in before. I was brought beck to this reality I had fallen into, that is so unique to my own, with the faint sound of steps on wooden floors.

My fear returned full force, and now that I was no longer gawking at my surroundings I had the thought to dwell on it. My previous observations on these beings left no doubt that the sound of footsteps was only for my benefit, as these beings were capable of moving completely soundlessly, even through the very trees they inhabit. A woman and a man descended the steps directly in front of them, and I became distressed, my fear overpowering my mind. They were very tall, and grave and beautiful, just like the rest of the beings I had seen. Each were clad wholly in white and but no sign of age was upon them but for the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.*

My fight or flight instinct that is so engrained into the psyche of humans actuated. I knew, deep in my soul, that I hand not a chance to ever fight my way out of this place, especially when all these inhuman creatures, especially with my injured knee. Suddenly a poem came to my mind that fit perfectly. Though they couldn't be elves, they didn't exist.

_"Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder. _  
_Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels. _  
_Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies. _  
_Elves are glamorous. They project glamour. _  
_Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment. _  
_Elves are terrific. They beget terror. _  
_The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes,  
Look behind words that have changed their meaning. _  
_No one ever said elves are **nice**. _  
_Elves are **bad**."_*

I could not sense any malicious intent from these beings, whatever they were, but they were so perfect that I could simply not wrap my mind around them. And because I could not understand them, I feared them as humans are wont to do. I was utterly helpless, this only magnified my terror a thousand fold. I could not run, or even walk, out of this place if I ever came by the chance. I could not fight if I were to be attacked. I could do nothing in this strange place, I could not even ask where I was for their language was like none on Earth. _Oh God, please do not let me die here. Please._ I prayed to he heavens, to a God I had never truly believed in.

The two manifestations of perfection in front of me stared for a bit. I suppose I must have looked as odd to them as they did to me. I also suppose that my swollen knee and very pronounced limp (as I was wholly unable to put any weight on my right leg without the knee giving out altogether) must have also seemed odd to these beings. Something told me, a slight niggling in the back of my mind told me that these beings didn't get hurt often, and when they did it was never very severe- at least, not to the point where they could not use their legs in the way they were intended.

A gentle voice spoke, the woman. She tried a couple of sentences, in what I can only assume were various languages. She had a look on her face that denoted perfect calm and a deep, inner peace. I envied that calm, that peace of hers. However, I sensed that the beings around me were becoming more and more frustrated as the woman continued to speak. I also grew frustrated, how could no one know English? It is the most widely known language on Earth!

Fight or flight. I was unable to fly and unable to physically fight, so I settled for the next best thing- verbal attack.

"How do you people not know English? Are all of you damnable, ethereal, menaces to society truly that ignorant of the outside world? Has your beautiful-person only club become outcasts because of your bloody isolation? Damn you! Damn you all to Hell!" I spat at them. I had become suddenly angry and when I spoke to these beings I hissed and spat and growled at them. _Let them think I am feral and unfit to approach! I could care less if only they would let me be!_

I knew that these things were not true. I did, but that didn't stop me from saying or them. Fear, just like love I suppose, has a way of making you do funny things. Things that, in any other circumstance, you would never do.

Perhaps that is why I said these things, I knew they could not understand me by now. I could feel that they were a threat to me instinctually, and I also knew that I could do nothing about it. _I feel threatened,_ this thought deflated me a bit, for I hadn't really named my fear yet, and I collapsed to the ground. I landed on my left hip unconsciously careful of my knee. Tears of fear and frustration lined the backs of my eyes though I would not let them fall, not in front of these beings at least.

"I am sorry," I said after a moment or two of silence after my outburst (even though I hadn't really yelled at all). I felt that I should apologize even if they didn't understand it.

The woman, whose name I still had not been told, knelt down by me and rest her hand lightly on my hurt knee. She eyed me warily as if she expected me to try and bite her like a wild dog might. For some reason, this hurt. I know that I hadn't been acting the most civilized in front of her (though who could blame me in my situation) but I was deeply sad that she would think me savage, or wild, because of it. Though I don't know why, I felt that to disappoint this woman was a sin of some sort. Some wrong that I could never hope to fix or be pardoned from.

_"Child."_ A voice echoed in my head. I started, it must have looked like a convulsion as I turned, shocked, on the floor. That voice, it sounded like the woman. But that was impossible! She had clearly not known just a minute earlier. I am sure that my mouth was hanging agape. The woman smiled a little and looked me straight in the eyes. The wisdom and years in her eyes unnerved me even more than her perfection had. I looked away, ashamed. Yet another feeling that I had no reason to feel but did. Slowly, my fear was turning to animosity, I knew in my very soul that if things continued how they were I would end up hating these perfect beings. Perhaps abhorring even the fact that they exist in this world.

The woman lightly grabbed my jaw and turned my head to face her, yet still I did my best to avoid looking into her eyes. They scared me, the fact that a single person could know so much scared the crap out of me. Somehow, she forced me to meet her eyes and from that point something held me there, I was unable to break eye contact. A second or so after I was forced to look to her the voice returned in my mind.

_"Child, I know you are frightened, but do not be so. We shall not hurt you, daughter of Man. We seek to understand how you came to be in our woods. You appeared quite suddenly and we know not how you might have gotten past our boarders without our knowledge, even if it was not too far." _The voice paused and the woman took on a forlorn air, the edges of her lips declining into a soft frown, before continuing, _"Your friend did not make it. She was killed in the yrch attack. I apologize for your loss, we were unable to help her by the time she was brought to the city…"_ She trailed off and I felt as if I wasn't being told something.

Did something happen that I was not aware of? I retreated into my mind slightly, my eyes glazed over, and tried to remember what exactly happened. Unfortunately, I did. I felt bile raise in my throat before I swallowed it back down, unwilling to puke in front of these unearthly beings, and I felt a couple of tears run down my face. Not any more than that though, not now anyway.

I had killed. With bare hands, with weapons I didn't really know how to use, with weapons I stole from bodies I had slaughtered. I destroyed life. Who was I to take another's life from them? Who was I that I should decide that those creatures should die? It was one thing with animals, who we use for food and clothing. But to kill beings who walked like us, communicated in a spoken language like us, and who must have also thought like us is a completely different thing.

I killed. I slaughtered. I massacred. How? I went into an unholy rage, I don't remember most of it, but I do remember the fact that I killed in cold blood to 'avenge' Sarah's death (which chocked me up a bit to remember) and that I was so deeply immersed in my rage that I had not felt pain or any else for that matter.

All of a sudden, I felt unworthy in the presence of the creatures surrounding me. I felt like a monster. I destroyed life, and not only one, but many lives. I needed to get out of here, I needed to escape this. I couldn't handle being here with these beings that were untainted by the blood of innocent life. I had to leave.

In my panic I rose, ignoring the oddly minute twinge of pain in my knee, and started stumbling to the only exit I saw. I must have looked rabid in my lumbering hysteria, but I paid no heed- my thoughts only of escaping before I tainted these heavenly beings with my corrupt proximity. I lurched, thrown off balance by my knee giving out. I was suddenly aware of pain washing into my conscious mind and drowning me. I cried out as I crumpled to the ground, holding my leg in a mockery of the foetal position as I could not bend it.

At this point I was beyond caring, and oblivious to my surroundings, I cried. I didn't sob (out loud, at least) but tears freely ran down my face making tracks over my cheeks and nose.

* * *

I picked up the distraught female at my Lady's command and took her to one of the healing rooms once more. I pitied her. She was in pain, could not communicate with anyone, and overwhelmed (with her friends recent death and what seems is her first encounter with one of the Eldar, let alone a group of them).

"Haldir," I called back, "Are you coming? Or should Orophin go with me in case she wakes again?"

Haldir sighed at me, though I am not completely sure why, and said, "Put her to rest then find Orophin. I will speak with the Lady, then relieve you of watching her until tomorrow, as the Lady has requested. I have a feeling that the duty of watching her will fall to me for a while, so speak with Orophin, Mabadúr, and Tholír* about dividing up Warden duties."

Oh, he must have sighed because he thinks that he will be detained in the city instead of out among the borders as he would like. "Yes, brother. Orophin and I, at least, will see to it.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
*English has been said to sound very snake-like because of the many 's', 't', 'ch' and 'th' sounds in the language by people who had not heard it before. It is also harsh for a Latin-based language and has been argued to actually have Germanic origins because of this (and its similarities to the German language itself).  
*Near quote of Tolkien's description of the (Lord and) Lady of Light in his book The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring in the chapter 'The Mirror of Galadriel'.  
*By Terry Prachett  
*Names found on www(dot)realelvish(dot)net(slash)our_sindarin_names(dot)php

-I hope I didn't overdo it with Rumíl's explanation of Samantha, I just thought that it would be a good time to tell you of her appearance and he thought about it that much because it was so foreign to him that he could not help but be a little intrigued… especially by the length of her hair. Culture shock!

**Review if you like, I love hearing what you guys have to say about my writing. Feel free to flame or give con-crit as long as your grammar and spelling is correct (or at least mostly). Thank you.**


	5. Chapter V

**Disclaimer****: **We don't own Lord of the Rings; this is just product of our Imagination that we have decided to share with whoever wants to read this. Feel free to flame but if you do please flame appropriately, no bad grammar and actually have a problem with it (who knows, it might be fixed- especially if you find a typo or any bad grammar, we hate those just as much as you do), don't flame just to flame…save yourself the time and embarrassment please. Thank you. - Bleeding Crimson Editor

**Thank you **all for reviewing! I will not mark each switch with a title proclaiming whichever character's thoughts we enter because it annoys me. The most you will get in that respect is a page-break… if they are working. Sorry for the inconvenience, and thank you again! Word of warning; I will be exercising my creative license in the descriptions of the talain (pl. of talan) because I can't find an actual description anywhere other than the fact that they're built in the mellryn (pl. of mellon) trees.

**Review Replies:**  
Glass-bottles: I thank you for your compliments. They are very much appreciated.  
Noldien: I am also sad I had to change it (cries in a corner) but I'm glad you think it is a good reason. If it makes it any better they're (or rather, Sam is) in their (her) twenties, about 22 or so. And I hope you enjoy.  
Razzika: Thank you, you've been reviewing on the last couple chapters and it makes me happy to know that someone liked this enough to keep coming back! I had marked the pov switches in my document with line-breaks and it showed up on the on-site edit and live preview, though when I checked the actual page it didn't show up! Thank you for the heads up, I think I fixed it.  
Katara97: I'm glad you like this and I shall do my best to keep up the standards. Hope no one was too put out about Galadriel being able to communicate with Sam, you are all so happy about the language barrier. If you like, I might be able to dig up a couple of really good 'Girl in ME' with a language barrier on the site. I actually am not that original, a couple of others have done this too… (depression.) 

_Chapter 5: Interesting, And Quite Odd Too_

Once again, I woke up in a bed that I was sure that was not mine. Only this time, I knew at least what had happened before I fell asleep (or was knocked unconscious, whichever had come first). I laid under the covers, someone must have tucked me in, for a minute or two before stirring from the warm bed. I tossed off the covers so that I could (carefully) swing my legs over the side of the bed unhindered.

I sat for another moment or two before truly taking in my surroundings, I was too confused to before. I was in a circular room, the walls were made of wood and intricately carved, and it was sparsely furnished and decorated - a tapestry (a really nice one), a bed, a rug and a dresser. If I had to guess, I would say that I was in that house-room that I woke up in before. It seemed to be familiar enough in that respect.

I hobbled over to the open window, not covered by glass as I was use to but some drawn drapes that were a deep purple in colour. I dislike purple…not nearly as much as I despise pink, though. The whole ordeal was quite painful as I relearned that I couldn't put any weight on my right leg - especially after re-injuring it twice in just as many days.

I looked around for my crutches, or at least something that could substitute for a crutch or even a walking stick. There! By the bed (which was quite beautifully carved, I must say) there seemed to be a slightly bent stick that would be perfect. To keep the weight off of my leg and stop it from moving too much (because it was very painful when the fluid that caused my knee to swell up moved around) I resorted to an almost crab-like crawl/hobble. I can only be grateful that one of those perfect beings from before didn't see me now, though being perfect they would only understand and try to make my life better. That would make me feel infinitely worse, only another way to make me feel inferior. I could never be like that.

I finally made it to the bowed stick and examined it as I ran my hands over the master craftsmanship. Intricate carvings of a hunt through a great forest wove an elaborate story around the wood. What was odd though, was the notches at the top and bottom, I pondered on it for a minute or two before it hit me. This was a bow! For archery!

This knowledge only made me more in awe of this unassuming 'stick.' I looked around for the bowstring, perhaps I could string it. I was not too confident in my ability to do this, but I had nothing else to do this. I found it, simply tossed on the floor haphazardly. For some reason, it made me sad, I very well could have wept at the disrespect paid to this bow. To these beings, this might have been an everyday item of no special value, but this would be praised as the most beautiful in museums and other such places. This is art, it is beauty!

I dragged myself up to sit on the bed, string and bow both held firmly, but reverently, in my hands. Stringing up the bottom end I placed my feet around it to keep it in place and made sure that my good foot was the one that would take the brunt of the force. I took a deep breath and pulled the top of the bow down to meet the even less elastic string. Huffing and holding my breath as I was wont to do when doing anything that caused much physical exertion. I didn't know what I would do with it once I was done, I couldn't shoot very well and even so, there were no arrows or even a quiver anywhere nearby.

I did it! I actually did it! It took a lot of power but I was able to string it. I held it up without much effort, as it was lighter than a bow that size and thickness should have been. Still sitting, I angled my body to the side, my left hand on the grip that had been worn smooth (either with much use or by that grand master craftsman) and drew back as far as I could with my right hand, two fingers on the string like I had been taught.

I had grown up in the suburbs but had been a Girl Scout for ten or eleven years (can't remember which) and so I had been able to try and learn things and skills that I would never have tried before. Horseback riding (not extensively and only on trials), archery, and basket weaving were among these things. I was not particularly good at any of these (though I loved all of them) because I was only able to do it a couple of times. (Though one summer I did help out at a ranch just out of the city, I learned how to tack up a horse and how to rub one down and all the other duties to care for a horse minus mucking out the stalls. However, I couldn't ride any of them, I will forever regret that.) Archery was a similar circumstance. I had gone to the lessons all two or three times that they were offered, I think the reason I liked it so much was because I was the most naturally talented beginner there. Nevertheless, lessons enough to count on one hand does not a world-class archer make. I wish I had stuck with it, or had enough time to join the archery club at the university…

Anyway, I lined up my imaginary arrow with a knot in the wood and let go. Bullseye, a perfect shot! The imaginary crowd roared in my mindscape as I did a miniature victory dance in the real world (unfortunately, I was unable to make a complete fool of myself because of my injury). Childish? Perhaps, but thoroughly entertaining.

A low chuckle resounded behind me. I froze and turned, Haldir.

~~~

I entered my talan fully expecting the mortal girl to still be asleep, but lo and behold she had risen from her unconscious state. I watched her move around for a moment or two, she was quite the odd mortal. _The short, pitch black hair. The otherworldly garb. The completely unknown language. The injury. The fell beast she and her late companion rode inside is sleeping now, or dead.* Her fury._

The last thought brought me out of my short musings, the girl was different and so quite possibly a threat. Perhaps not in the fighting area, I looked at her form on the ground, she couldn't get to anywhere without her supports.

_What is she doing?_ I thought to myself, she seemed to be looking for something, my unstrung bow in her hands. It was quite old, in my possession for the last thousand years or so when I was named Marchwarden. A gift from the Lady.

She found the bowstring and amusingly tried to string up the weapon. Amazingly, though, she was able to maneuver it into a position where she could push with one of her feet (she was noticeably meticulous about positioning the end of the bow at her foot) and a hand, pulling the string with the other hand to the opposite end. She strung it, odd. I would not have thought that such a slight human would have been able to do it. _Though, I suppose she would have to have some kind of strength to handle that dark beast of hers._

The adan* struggled to her feet, or rather, foot, and made a great show of lining up her sight with the bow. Her posture was acceptable and her stance horrid, though this could very well be attributed to the fact that she was unable to stand on one of her feet. She pulled the string back, good form but for the stance really, and let go. The familiar whip of the bow could be heard, though without it's companion the sound of the arrow, as she released her hold.

I followed her line of sight and could track it to a general area, if she had taken the shot with a real arrow instead of a make-believe one it would have missed. Not by too far, but enough to know that it was simply a natural, if completely unrefined, talent and a bit of luck guiding it.

However, she must have thought it to fly straight and true for she preformed one of the oddest things I have seen in the entirety of my life. A queer combination of cold-shivers and jumping while raising and lowering her fists in quick succession. I presume it to be an expression of happiness by the smile on her face. I could not help myself and so I let out a laugh, only a short one before I quieted myself once more.

She froze in place and turned to see who had intruded on her, slowly turning. The look in her eyes reminded me faintly of a deer, scared so completely it is unable to move, eyes bright and wide as if reflecting the light of some potential harm. Her mouth opened and closed as if she were trying to say something that could be understood. She said something in her hissing language then my name. It reminded me of the reason I was there in the first place, send by the Lady of Light.

I must take her Lady Galadriel, I hope she is not too frightened. It would be troublesome to have to _further _incapacitate the mortal and then have carry her. Hopefully, we will learn more about this oddity that has fallen into our midst. If nothing else, we know that she will not intentionally harm us. Unable to physically harm any of us in her state, even if the Lady _had _sensed any maliciousness towards the free people of Arda.

**Author's Note:**  
*The jeep has not been forgotten, simply left in the woods. And since I really doubt any of the elves have ever seen a car it would most likely be compared to some fell beast, asleep (or more accurate dead) when turned off. I see this only casting more suspicion on Sam, especially if she starts it up again, or when she unloads anything from the trunk (or boot as some call it)...  
*Sindarin for human, I was unable to find female human, or girl, though.

**Lastly, please review. I enjoy them. Flames welcome if they have a point and proper grammar (spelling I don't mind to much, but please nothing stupid) and proper capitalization. Constructive criticism welcomed also. Question, comments, concerns? Perhaps even a suggestion?**


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